Are You Sure You're Not?
by The Bella Beast
Summary: After being manipulated into sharing an apartment will Harry Potter kill Draco Malfoy or drive him into the mad house? Slash. M. Dom/Sub. 3 to 4 chapters. Warning: Boxer War. Slightly crackish.
1. Slytherin?

**Summary: Hermione and Ron want a house too themselves. Unfortunately this means that Draco Malfoy has too live somewhere new and Harry Potter needs a new room mate to help him make the rent. Hermione and Ron get their devious on and all of a sudden the two schoolyard rivals are living under the same roof. Slashy Slash slash. Eventually very dirty. Hopefully three or so chapters.**

**Warnings: Dom/Sub, slash, bitching and boxer wars.**

**AN: I'm sorry. I really am. But this beast of a story would _not _go away. I will be updating wanker soon if you're interested. Hope you like it. Review if you're so inclined, I will not hold it against you XD**

Draco Malfoy wasn't exactly sure how he ended up living with the Golden Boy Wonder Who Lived And Died And Lived In A Confusing Manner; he was only sure that he would never forgive Hermione Granger for her level headed, logical and very persistent whining. Moving out of his comfy apartment that he shared with his best friend and coworker – or at least Granger used to be his best friend – to live with Harry Potter was never on his To-Do List, in fact, talking with Harry Potter was not there either, but somehow his overly educated friend had made him agree to the situation.

Draco was sure that Hermione Granger should have been a Slytherin.

He was also sure that this was all so Ron Weasley could move in with her and they could fuck like dirty Gryffindor rabbits.  
>Disgusting.<p>

* * *

><p>"Just because I live with you doesn't mean I have to pick up your fucking underpants Potter!" He yelled, flinging a pair of red and gold boxers at the inert body on the couch.<p>

"Really? Why _are_ you here then?" Potter said, not even bothering to remove the snitch covered undergarments from his face.

"Go ask Hermione fucking Granger; it makes perfect sense coming from her."

"You know that you don't have to do what she says, right?"

"Yes Potter, I know. But this is better."

"Better for what? Your sterling reputation?"

"Yes Potter, my sterling reputation."

"Ah, your father would be proud."

"You can't exactly take pot shots with dirty underwear on your face Potter."

Harry merely shrugged his shoulders and rolled over, the underpants falling back on the floor by the couch where they were less then a few minutes ago.

Draco stared at them for a full five minutes determined not to deal with the disgusting things until it became too much to see them laying on the hardwood floor he (and Potter) was paying good money for. Eventually he picked them up with a violent sounding huff and deposited them in the hamper leaving Harry Potter silently shaking with laughter.

"Fuck you, you dirty slut."

Potter just laughed harder.

* * *

><p>The issue with Harry Potter was that he was a blithering idiot. Two weeks into living in the same apartment of the lazy and, to be honest, sluttish international quidditch star made him want to tear his hair out, because Harry Potter didn't <em>do<em> anything. It was like the man didn't have feelings or emotions or desires beyond mild irritation, sleeping, eating and fucking.

Hermione, Department of Mysteries employee and mutual friend of Draco and Harry, believed that maybe putting Draco in the house might change that. Draco knew she had some obscure unknown reason of her own to have the two in the same house – possibly it was just easier to nag at them and lend them books they had no intention of reading that way – but the "Harry is in a _rut_, Draco, a _rut_" reason was the one she presented to him most often, besides "It'll fix that little reputation issue right up" and blatant blackmail. The plan was to antagonise Harry Potter into action (hopefully not murder) by presenting him with his childhood rival in all his spare moments of the day. So far it was pretty ineffectual.

* * *

><p>Draco Malfoy, in all honesty, was a cunt. Harry didn't understand how Ron Weasley had convinced him this was a good idea. It was possible that he had gotten Harry drunk enough to bet his living quarters on a game of chess against what turned out to be a very sober Ron. Harry was pretty annoyed; Ron had seemed even more pissed then Harry until that damn fucking game started.<p>

Harry partly blamed the influence of Ron's auror partner, Theo Nott, for this new manipulative low, but most of him suspected that Ron had a lot of Slytherin in his personality from the get go.

Either way, Harry had taken to calling the him Ronald and had no intention of ever stopping. It was justified slightly in the way that Ron wanted to have an apartment to Hermione and himself and he knew that Harry was incapable of living cleanly and, as such, provided him with a neat freak room mate. It was, on a strange level, rather sweet of him.

He might have thought about forgiving his friend if it weren't for the fact Draco Malfoy was a bitch.

The man called him a slut, a whore and a lazy git, which was all well and fine because Harry could simply say muggle things like "sticks and stones, darling," and confuse him into relative silence, but when the dick had commandeered his favourite food making appliance – a deep fryer – for "top secret D.o.M. work" Harry, in his mildly irritated way, declared war.

* * *

><p>Draco could have sworn that Harry was <em>actually<em> throwing every pair of boxers he wore into the living room on purpose now. It wasn't just a simple matter of convenient dropping place pre-one night stand anymore. This was deliberate aggravation on Harry's part. Draco was sick of it, not to mention at wits end trying to think of _why_ Harry was doing it. Hermione, however, only seemed delighted that Harry was doing things deliberately, which only served to aggravate Draco more. Gryffindors were stupid people who saw rainbows where regular people saw unicorn shit, and yet they still had the balls to manipulate poor innocent people like himself into sharing living quarters with a known enemy who had no reguard for the proper placement of dirty laundry. Fuck Gryffindors. He would get a new job if he had to, because he had made a concious decision never to talk to bushy haired, bucktoothed, bookworm, Gryffindor Granger ever again.

* * *

><p>"Hey Potter, sure you weren't a Hufflepuff?"<p>

"What part of drunkenly gambling away my home and happiness doesn't ring of Gryffindor stupidity to you Malfoy?"

"Oh, I was just wondering because you seem to have all the typical uncontrollable urges to cuddle with your romantic... uh... people."

"Eloquent Malfoy. It's hardly my fault he fell asleep on me. Actually, it was more like he passed out... So I guess it was my fault after all."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Well, what I did was I grabbed his cock and sucked him till he made this little noise and just fainted dead away and that was only the first time. Oh you should have seen him when I -"

"Oh God Potter. Stop talking right now and get your slut off my fucking couch!"

"You are really too concerned about your damned couch. Besides he's heavy."

"He's heavy? HE'S HEAVY? Potter one of your job requirements is to pump weights the size of an gymful of guys like this! Now get him off!"

"No. Quite like it that he makes you angry by being asleep. Maybe I'll keep this one around for a while."

"Fine then. I am going to find Granger. She can deal with your body building slut."

Potter only snorted at the idea of Hermione trying to wrestle a sleepy naked male of the crotch of her sleepy naked male best friend and brother figure. Draco knew it was a fairly pathetic threat but it was the principle of the thing; if one was threatened with Granger then you had too do what you were told, you just _had _to. Draco's eyes narrowed, suddenly resembling the brooding storm clouds that Witch Weekly more often then not used to describe them.

"Goddammit Potter. He is _drooling_ on my couch! I will _not_ hesitate to floo Coach Annabel and tell her exactly what you define as exercise and don't you even _begin_ to think that I'm bluffing!"

"You wouldn't!"

Draco's lip curled in contempt at the two naked men dripping bodily fluids all over his couch, "Oh, try me."

Potter looked panicked for a moment then noticeably relaxed as though he realised something, "Whatever. You don't even have her floo details."

"So? I'll just floo 'Mione and tell her you're too sick to call in sick. She'll give them to me in a snap, and then come over here to nurse you to health and then she'll see that you're not sick and _then_ she'll lecture you until she's blue in the face. Then she'll notice the Neanderthal dribbling on my furniture, and _then_ -"

"And _then_ she'll lecture _you_ on being a manipulative little cunt!"

"You know, I can deal with that. The Neanderthal goes, Potter. Now. And make sure to take his boxers with you."

Harry glared and looked Draco directly in the eyes and tugged at the Neanderthal's underwear and dropped them on the floor. Harry smiled – apparently the man could sleep through a hurricane.

He stood looking smugly at Draco until the blonde man's head twitched and he pulled his wand and prodded the sleeping man, sending a small shock through him. The man bolted awake and noticed his surroundings; confusedly searching for his trousers.

"Fuck Draco!" Harry snapped, "What are you doing? How do you know he's not a muggle?"

"I dunno, maybe because of the fact he kept shouting 'fuck me lord slayer'?"

The man looked between the arguing pair and looked at Draco, "Sorry," he mumbled, distinctly scared, "He, uh... Harry didn't tell me, I mean, I didn't know. It wasn't in the papers or anything, so how was I supposed to... Uh, sorry."

"Sorry for what?" Draco rounded on the large man struggling to pull his too tight jeans on.

"Sorry! I didn't know!"

"Didn't know what? Spit it out!"

"I didn't know you were together. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Draco's eyes turned dangerous, "Get out."

It wasn't until at least an hour later that Draco noticed Neanderthal's boxers were still on the floor. He hooked them on the end of a pencil and marched off to find Potter.

"Harry Potter, this is the last fucking straw!"


	2. Hufflepuff?

**Summary: Hermione and Ron want a house too themselves. Unfortunately this means that Draco Malfoy has too live somewhere new and Harry Potter needs a new room mate to help him make the rent. Hermione and Ron get their devious on and all of a sudden the two schoolyard rivals are living under the same roof. Slashy Slash slash. Eventually very dirty. Hopefully three or so chapters.**

**Warnings: Dom/Sub, slash, bitching and boxer wars.**

**AN: I'm sorry. I really am. But this beast of a story would _not _go away. I will be updating wanker soon if you're interested. Hope you like it. Review if you're so inclined, I will not hold it against you XD**

As he walked out of his room in the direction of the noise Harry wondered what was wrong this time, probably nothing. Draco _was_ a Slytherin after all, and everyone knew Slytherins saw unicorn shit where everyone else saw rainbows. It was practically a proverb in the Weasley household.

"I swear to _God_, Potter! I _know _you're doing this on purpose and I am fucking _sick_ of it!"

"Doing what?"

"Oh, I dunno! Maybe dropping your pants on my couch? And the kitchen table? And the bath tub? And my writing desk?"

"Oh, you mean this," Potter dropped his boxers right then and their in the middle of the front room and flung them at Draco's favourite couch.

Draco roared at him and pushed him against the wall, holding his wand in the traditional attack position at Harry's neck.

There was a tense moment of huffed breaths and clashing bodies till Draco turned away and fled leaving Harry leaning against the front room wall; naked, flushed and alone.

And for the first time in a long time he actually felt that way.

* * *

><p>Harry repeated his performance over and over, only to have Draco glare at him and leave as quickly as he could. Draco's abrupt rejection was the greatest feeling in his life – he felt it <em>so <em>much, why did no one tell him he could feel like that again? – but it was the most confusing loneliness he had ever felt and this was from Harry, a boy who had spent more then half his life feeling more alone then any other wizard in Britain; not even the Prophet would deny that.

* * *

><p>It was three weeks before Draco and Harry talked again.<p>

Harry wondered into the kitchen to see Draco poring over some documents with a mug of coffee, looking like he was settling in for the long haul, and Harry took his chance to... Well, he wasn't sure yet but he was sure he'd find out soon.

"Malfoy."

The Malfoy in question stood up hastily, grabbing sheets of paper covered in secretive scrawls and moving towards the fireplace.

"Malfoy."

There was a pause and Harry could just _feel_ that Draco was clenching his teeth and it was glorious. Predictably the aloof young blonde had composed himself and continued his path to the pot of floo powder on the mantelpiece; somewhat less predictably Harry's anger flared. He felt so angry and it was powerful and it was brilliant and it was burning through him like curse fire. He walked quickly across the room and stood in between Malfoy and his escape.

"Draco fucking Malfoy!" He felt like he was pushing the words in Draco's face and he could feel the terrified man in front of him breathe faster and faster; the volume and force of his panicked air reached across the distance to hit his lips and set Harry's pulse beating like it hadn't since the day he died. Harry's arm flipped up and grabbed Draco's wrist almost of it's own accord, but Merlin, did Harry mean too.

"You will _not_ ignore me!"

Draco only took a single moment to gage the implacable force closing around his wrists, too feel the stretch in his arms, too see the muscles tensing in Harry's biceps and the strain of Harry's shirt against his strength.

And there it was again; that moment where everything broke and came together with a force that pushed everything else away. There was just them and anger and passion and feeling. Harry could feel it all. He could feel the way he was somehow pushing Draco into the wall and now holding both his arms above their heads in, impossibly, only one hand. He could feel Draco's pulse beat against his palm. He could feel want stir inside himself. It was not just the simple rousing that a quick fuck bought but animal lust and want and need that pumped through his head and all of a sudden he was glory and power and he didn't even care that he was supposed to be confused and upset. Yes, it was Draco Malfoy but Draco Malfoy had stopped being a schoolboy in the last few weeks and had become the man panting against his lips, the man who was looking at him through scared half lidded eyes and more importantly the man who made him feel _so much_. Draco Malfoy was gorgeous and _so close_. He was blonde and he was beautiful and he was... pulling himself as far into the wall as he could.

"What's the matter Draco? Do I scare you?"

Draco whimpered, drawing out a soft laugh from his captor.

His voice was like honey in Draco's ears, but the fact was Harry was right; he _was_ scared. He had never let go of his emotions like that. Merlin, had he wanted too some times, but was never brave enough. Too be forced to; too lose control was terrifying.

Then there was the fact that his childhood enemy was crushing him against the wall and looking at him like he was edible.

Harry licked his lips – Draco looked practically edible.

"Harry," his voice came out softer then either man had heard from him before, "Harry, what are you doing?"

Harry looked at Draco's turned head and sighed.

"Draco," he leaned in and whispered in the man's ear, "Shut. Up."

There was a pause for a few moments where neither knew if Harry was going to punch Draco in the stomach or... something else.

"Draco."

Draco turned too look at the man, starting slightly from his unexpected proximity; Harry hadn't moved back after he had whispered. His lips brushed Draco's, he could feel the heat of them on his own and the breath, the terrifying intoxicating feeling of Harry's angry huffing called to something inside him. He just felt so naked.

"Draco," and there was a slow buzzing _rough soft_ drag against his lips as Harry said his name and Draco froze, "you feel like," Harry paused, just resting his lips against Draco's, "You feel so beautiful Draco. Is it odd that it's like this? It almost feels like," he paused again and it almost felt like his lips moved against Draco's, that they pushed against them, "God, Draco, so wrong. So," Harry moved back slightly and forward again in what would have been a kiss had he broken the contact between them, "So beauti-"

The end of the word was a muffled breath – an air filled shadow of a final syllable – in Draco's mouth as Harry pushed forward in earnest; his open mouth against Draco's slightly startled and parted lips, his tongue slowly but forcefully mapping Draco's lips, then teeth, then entire mouth.

Harry didn't know quite when he had started kissing him but he knew exactly the moment when Draco had finally moved, when his lips started moving against his; It was when Harry had moved his spare hand to grip Draco's hip and pushed himself flush against Draco's body.

He'd never forget the way Draco had moaned. He sounded like a two dollar whore and he sounded beautiful.

He couldn't help himself.

Draco gasped as Harry's thorough ministrations quickly devolved. Harry began to plunder his mouth and his spare hand roved to Draco's backside, cupping it and pushing their crotches together, causing Draco to moan again, which in turn caused Harry to explode all over again. Harry's rolling hips and nibbling teeth seemed wildly out of control, but Draco knew better; Draco knew Harry. Harry had every ounce of control in this melding of hips and lust, and the mere thought made Draco whimper.


	3. Ravenclaw?

**Summary: Hermione and Ron want a house too themselves. Unfortunately this means that Draco Malfoy has too live somewhere new and Harry Potter needs a new room mate to help him make the rent. Hermione and Ron get their devious on and all of a sudden the two schoolyard rivals are living under the same roof. Slashy Slash slash. Eventually very dirty. Hopefully three or so chapters.**

**Warnings: Dom/Sub, slash, bitching and boxer wars.**

**AN: I'm sorry. I really am. But this beast of a story would _not _go away. I will be updating wanker soon if you're interested. Hope you like it. Review if you're so inclined, I will not hold it against you XD**

Harry noticed that it was happening slowly, but it was definitely happening; it seemed like Draco was groggily waking up from a deep coma. It boiled Harry's blood – he was hyper aware of the heat of his blood flowing through his legs, his arms, his cock – the way Draco was slowly coming too himself and fighting for control. When he tried to spin Harry to reverse their positions the Saviour of the Wizarding World laughed under his breath. It was almost adorable.

"What are you doing?"

Draco could tell the question was asked out of curiosity, rather then anger, like Harry was genuinly wondering what he was trying too do. But it was obvious. Draco Malfoy was bottom to no one. Draco Malfoy didn't even look like a bottom, or at least not like any bottom he'd run into yet. Draco was strong and muscled and tall, and maybe he was a little thin in places but he wasn't wiry like he used to be. He was fit and he had spent countless hours in the gym proving it. Draco glared at him balefully.

"Can tell why you weren't a Ravenclaw Potter."

"Draco dear, I want you to know that I have the full intention of fucking you this evening, and I want you to know that I will have you screaming for more."

"You seem pretty fucking sure of yourself for someone who-"  
>Harry cut him off by gripping his hair and pulling his head back, exposing the long line of Draco's neck, "I <em>am<em> fucking sure Draco."

And he bent his head into the porcelain skin of Draco's throat kissing above his windpipe, sucking along his windpipe, biting along his windpipe.

Draco would never admit it but having Harry so dangerously in control of him was intoxicating; the way he could – and maybe even would – bite through Draco's skin and through something vital like his trachea or jugular set his pulse racing, his heart jumping and his libido pumping harder then it ever had – even harder then when he had seen that glorious England v. Australia quidditch match in the rain last summer. And _that_ had been _glorious_.

He still battled as Harry unbuttoned and pushed down his trousers and pants – partly due to the fact he was still half terrified of Harry Potter and partly because he knew that was what Harry wanted.

Harry groaned. Draco's surprisingly strong form writhed in his grip and God, did Harry feel it. He was so strong and tough – the man had survived Belatrix for God's sake – and he was all Harry's. Harry wasn't sure Draco knew that quite yet, but he'd be sure to tell him first thing once he'd finished _feeling_ him under him.

He took his hand from Draco's hair and held three in front of his mouth, "Suck Draco."

Draco let the fingers into his mouth and bit down just enough too hurt. He could feel Harry push himself against his thigh as he gasped and let Draco's wrists go so he could pull back Draco's head again. "Draco," a bit more forcefully this time, "_suck_."

And Draco moaned and he sucked, wriggling and thrusting under Harry for a little bit of friction – any bit of friction please God Almighty.

Harry's breathing grew heavy feeling Draco's tongue and his hips all over him; doing what _he _wanted them too. He slipped his fingers from Draco's mouth and ran them in a line down the middle of Draco's back as his little Slytherin arched into his body. He blew over Draco's shoulder at the line of wet saliva down his spine and the man shivered in his arms, "Oh, God Harry. Just touch me. Just fuck me already!"

Biting back a groan he pushed a finger into Draco's asshole. No preamble, no dallying.

He could feel the blond clench rhythmically around his fingers, he could feel the strength in the man and Oh God. He watched as Draco tried his hardest to fuck himself on his finger and slipped in another only too see Draco's head fling back. God, he looked so good like that. Harry wondered idly what the man would think about photography in the bedroom, or maybe even portraiture. Harry grunted and started fucking the man with his fingers, carefully slipping a third in as quickly as he could without hurting Draco.

From the reaction he got, he felt he'd achieved that pretty well actually. Draco was moaning and even – though Draco would not admit it and Harry knew better then too mention it – letting out the occasional high pitched keen.

"Harry, just _fuck_ me already!"

"Why Draco," Harry drawled pulling out his fingers and lining up his cock, "You fucking little cockslut."

On the word slut he snapped his hips up, slamming into the man he had pinned up against the wall.

Draco let out a low yell, "Fucking yes!"

Harry grabbed Draco's legs and lifted them around his hips, changing the angle of his thrusts until Draco saw stars.

It was just twelve and a half more thrusts and countless shouts of _harder Harry_ until Draco came, splattering come all over his pristine Hugo Boss suit jacket and Harry's bare chest. One half thrust more and Harry followed, exploding inside Draco and as he shakily rode out his orgasm he muttered a repeated mantra which sounds suspiciously like_ my cockslut. Mine. Always._

Draco found himself confused; should he be offended, flattered or filing for a restraining order?

Given that the man had just given him the most powerful orgasm of his life and he wasn't even late for work, he decided the little chant was endearing and ego boosting.

Harry couldn't help himself, he kissed up and down Draco's face – gentle fluttering kisses – and he kept muttering odd things like, "I've never felt so much, Draco." and "God, you feel... fuck Draco." and "It's so _different_. With you that is. Different with you." and "I still _feel,_ Draco!"

Harry was smiling a smile Draco hadn't seen since Harry had last one a quidditch match at Hogwarts all those years ago – pure happiness – and although it confused Draco – it had been a quick and dirty fuck, angry and charged, not happy in the least – he found himself inexplicably happy that Harry was happy and not in a way that he could blame on post orgasmic bliss. He felt like he belonged here and he guessed they had a bit too go, but he could suck it up and give it a try. He would be brave like his Gryffindor, even if it killed him.


	4. Gryffindor?

**Summary: Hermione and Ron want a house too themselves. Unfortunately this means that Draco Malfoy has too live somewhere new and Harry Potter needs a new room mate to help him make the rent. Hermione and Ron get their devious on and all of a sudden the two schoolyard rivals are living under the same roof. Slashy Slash slash. Eventually very dirty. Hopefully three or so chapters.**

**Warnings: Dom/Sub, slash, bitching and boxer wars.**

**AN: I'm sorry. I really am. But this beast of a story would _not _go away. I will be updating wanker soon if you're interested. Hope you like it. Review if you're so inclined, I will not hold it against you XD**

The days after did not consist of a lot of being brave, to be honest, as Harry's training stepped up a notch in lieu of the traditional Australia v. England grudge match. One grocery night he'd come home with a bag full of vegetables instead of junk food and a new set of home training instructions that Draco delighted in reinforcing with a snide few comments here and there. After that Harry started spending more time at training too return home more and more exhausted and falling asleep easier and easier. Worryingly, the young black haired slut was also becoming more and more inclined to have _conversations_. Draco was worried that maybe he'd have to actually act on his promise to himself of being brave and Gryffindor-like, but so far he'd successfully been able to put off talking until Harry eventually fell asleep.

There had only been one close call.

"Hey Draco, can we..." he trailed off looking at his feet.

"Can we _what_?"

"Can- Can we talk?"

"What is this sudden fascination with _talking_ Potter?"

"You know what Draco? _Fuck_ you!"

And then he rolled over and went to sleep.

Harry still hadn't tried to talk to him again and Draco could see him becoming moodier and more withdrawn. He was beginning to look like the exhausted emotionally empty man that Hermione had described before he moved in; it was a man he'd never seen before. Sure, he seen lazy and bored and sluttish – words Hermione used to describe his actions – but never had he seen the emptiness that Hermione maintained was the emotional core of the man.

He almost hadn't believed her before now.

It had been weeks before they talked again, and Draco was – besides feeling a bit of deja vu – starting to worry.

This new Harry scared him and he didn't know why he cared about Harry's well being but he did and he was worried about what Harry could do to himself, because really, right now, Harry could do anything and it wasn't like there was anyone at all who was strong enough too stop him.

He didn't really understand it but he didn't want Harry to go anywhere, in fact, more then anything he wanted Harry to go back to being the lazily offensive man he was when Draco moved in.

And if Draco didn't keep his promise that would never happen.

It wouldn't be anything that he was used too and he would have to be strong in ways he hadn't ever been but it was time.

The next morning – a Sunday and Harry's only day off in these recent weeks – Draco got up early and wondered into the exhausted seeker's bedroom to find him tying the laces on his sneakers and dressed in his training clothes.

"Harry, can we-" Harry cut off his words by standing up and pushing Draco against a wall. Apparently it was something Harry liked to do these days.

"Can we what, Draco? Can we talk? Do you want to _talk_ now? Or did you just want to ignore everything that happened? I don't know about you Draco, but that didn't feel like something we can just ignore too me! I actually- I think I- You know what Draco? Fuck you."

Draco was frightened. This wasn't like before when Harry _might_ have punched him or _might _have broken his wrist in his powerful hand. If Draco said anything now Harry _would_ hurt him; would make him feel whatever Harry was feeling in physical scarring, but Draco couldn't bring himself to think what Harry might do to _himself_ if he didn't. From what Draco had peiced together from his talks with Hermione before he moved in and the way things had happened then this was the point that had Hermione worried and he – little ex war criminal Draco – had brought him too something a little bit more bearable. He had been working and then there was _then _and Harry...

Harry had looked like his old self again, his old self at his happiest most shiny moments even.

For him to go back to this in no time had to hurt him more then the gradual fall from reality he had felt before Draco had happened to him, and maybe he was flattering himself thinking all this but Draco had to believe it. He had to believe he didn't make Harry so cold, so empty, after he had been simply a bit bored; he had to believe he had at least saved him a little first.

"H-Harry. I don't know if-" Draco paused looking at the anger in Harry's eyes, "Well, I know you'll hurt me, but I just decided I don't fucking care. Please. I want to talk. _Please_."

Draco was right, Harry was gripping Draco's side in one hand and was squeezing tighter and tighter as Draco talked and it was becoming hard to breath and his heart was beating so hard he could feel his pulse in his forehead and his ribs hurt but he couldn't stop, he would be hurt even if he did and he had to try; he had to at least _attempt_ to make Harry feel better again.

"Harry. Look," he gasped breathlessly, "Harry look at me. I- I wah-hant too talk!"

Harry winced and Draco could feel his ribs like they had pokers crushing them instead of hands, "Te-hell me what you want m-he to say. Please Harry!"  
>Harry growled low in his chest, "How about the truth Draco," he said with a vicious tightening of his hand that broke two of Draco straining ribs, "How about you tell me what little that fuck meant to you so you can laugh at Harry Potter the big stupid slut some more, huh?"<p>

Draco tried to smother the scream that wanted to rush past his lips at the pain but it escaped in three high pitched broken notes and a guttural roar. The tears he held back though, he just broke two of his ribs for a fucking _cause_ for god's sake; he might as well be a stupid Gryffindor properly.

He took a few remedying breaths and tried steadfastly to ignore the hand still on his broken side. It was harder then he thought to be a Gryffindor and words were hard to think, let alone speak.

A growl and slight shake from Harry, another jolt of pain up Draco's side.

"I cared," gasped Draco as loudly as he could, "I cared a lot Harry. I want it! I want you, but it's terrifying. You're terrifying. Oh God Harry. I'm not brave like you. I couldn't- I wish that I- Oh, Ha-arry please understand."

Even in his pain filled fog Draco could note surprise at the babbling stream of words coming from his mouth when his chest was aching like there was a hole in him, but he couldn't stop, Harry had to understand; had to know he wanted this.

"Please, I want you to know thah-hat I care so so-ho-ho-" Draco ran out of breath bewildered as too why his words wouldn't keep coming and instead of drawing breath, he used the last of his energy to push forward and he placed a gentle kiss on Harry's lip and quite promptly fainted.

When he came too he was laying in Harry's bed with Harry laying on top of the covers in his running gear, sneaker's still half tied.

"What did you do?" Draco laughed, or at least tried too, "Lay straight down and forget the world existed?"

Harry was startled out of the half slumber he was in, "What? No. I- I made you lunch and- and- oh and the kettle! I made tea for you as well! Draco, did you mean it?" he said, grasping at Draco's shoulders and leaning over him.

Draco tried not too wince, but Harry noticed, "Did- Did I hurt you? Oh God, I did, didn't I? I'm so sorry. So sorry," and he kept mumbling as he ran wandless non-verbal diagnostic spells over where he had gripped Draco's side, "Oh God, your ribs Draco, I'm so sorry. I didn't realise. Let me just-"

"No!" interrupted Draco, "Leave them. It's a tradition. They're my fault and I know it seems stupid but I want to a reminder, not to be such a prick and-"

"You're right Draco, that actually sounds very brave of you," and Draco smiled.

"But," Harry continued, "if you think I'm going to let you be hurt when it's in my power to stop it then you have another thing coming Draco Malfoy. I am not going to let you stay in pain when a. it's my fault, and b. you hardly understand the stupid pureblood bullshit you're trying to quote yourself. I'll be damned if I am going to let some archaic rule stop me from taking care of you now I have you. You're mine and I'm not letting go."

It was odd for Draco to have such quick affection and investment in him but he guessed it was Harry's worry for his safety that had exacerbated the declarations and partly his stupid sentiment. But he'd never been cared for so much before, so instead of telling Harry exactly what the tradition meant he lay back and let the man heal his ribs.

"How do you even know how to do that?"

"Coach Annabel made us take first aid training. Hey Draco."

"Yes?"

"Why did you keep going even when you knew I would hurt you? Are you _sure_ you're not a Gryffindor? Cause you're definitely showing signs of being a 'stupid blundering idiot who values ideals more then sense'. You could do it professionally, you're so good at it."

"You _do_ do it professionally Potter."

"So why Draco?"

Draco scowled at Harry, he was supposed to ignore the question and _Harry_ was supposed to be too busy being annoyed too notice that he'd not answered.

"I promised I'd be more like a Gryffindor and be brave like you and-"

"And Draco?"

"And I was worried about you. I missed you, even the bits where you were a prat and you were going to do something stupid and I was so scared and I didn't know what else to do and I just wanted _my_ Harry back and-"

Harry stopped Draco short by enveloping the man into a warm sweet hug, "Oh, my little pretend Gryffindor. I never knew you were so sweet," he chuckled and felt Draco yawn against his chest, "maybe you should get some sleep huh? It'll all be better in the morning."

Draco drifted off too the feeling of Harry's hand carding through his hair and the occasional soft kiss on his forehead.

The next day he woke up to Harry rushing around looking for his quidditch robes and Draco sent a mild tripping hex at him and Harry growled and called him a prat as he kissed him goodbye. Draco sighed to himself; it really was better in the morning.


End file.
